


Snack

by ackermom



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Afternoon delight, Bitty is a snack, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-08 18:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13463766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackermom/pseuds/ackermom
Summary: They're just baking, after all. And maybe it's totally necessary for Jack to stand up against him like that, to get in close to help roll the dough- well, it's not necessary at all for Jack's fingers to make their way under his shirt and tickle his stomach.





	Snack

Hopefully the noise from the TV covers up the squeak that escapes Bitty when Jack corners him against the counter and kisses his neck.

"Honey," Bitty exclaims, then quickly lowers his voice to a whisper. "The boys are in the next room."

Even he can't contain the giggle that escapes with his words. He bites his lip, trying to hold back his smile, but Jack's fingers are trailing across his hips and up his stomach, tickling his skin over his shirt, and well, the boys are busy in the next room with their show. He can indulge himself for a second, can't he?

"Are they?" Jack murmurs in his ear. "That's funny, I don't hear anyone but you."

This week's extra dramatic episode of the Bachelorette is playing at full volume from the next room, and the boys are just as loud, screaming for what's-her-face to make the right choice via rose-giving. Bitty doesn't really understand. He also doesn't understand why a bunch of hockey players are so obsessed with it, but he supposes that it's just an indulgent distraction from classes. And look, he and Jack are being innocent enough in here. They're just baking, after all. And maybe it's totally necessary for Jack to stand up against him like that, to get in close to help roll the dough- well, it's not necessary at all for Jack's fingers to make their way under his shirt and tickle his stomach. 

"Jack," Bitty mutters, but he's grinning, butterflies dancing in his stomach, his skin tingling wherever Jack leaves his touches. There and there, and  _right there_ , his lips crossing the threshold to Bitty's collarbone and painting a tiny blushed mark on his skin.

"I'm telling on you," Bitty mumbles, swatting at him with a flour-covered hand.

"Sorry, who exactly are you telling?" Jack asks, wrapping his arms around Bitty's stomach.

Pressed up close against his body like that, Bitty can feel the outline of Jack's burgeoning hard-on against his ass, and his face flushes as he dusts his hands off, pretending not to notice yet. "I don't know," he says. "But they'll make you pay."

"I think that's Lardo's job."

"Good point," Bitty says. He wriggles out of Jack's grasp and spins around to face him, giggling quietly when Jack presses him against the counter and kisses him fully. Bitty kisses him back, smiling, his hands snaking up across Jack's chest- lord, those muscles- and over his shoulders until he hangs his arms around Jack's neck, letting himself sway in Jack's clutches.

When he breaks his lips away, Bitty grins. "You're gonna owe her big time after this."

"Not if she doesn't find out," Jack mutters. He kisses the corner of Bitty's mouth. "Come on, let's go upstairs."

"You want me to leave this good dough out here all by itself?" Bitty protests, putting his hands on Jack's shoulders.

Jack wiggles his eyebrows- lord, he's dumb when he's horny- but that's a good enough answer for Bitty. Maybe a quick trip upstairs is worth sacrificing one batch of dough. And who knows, maybe the dough will still be okay by the time they come back downstairs. That's assuming they don't fall asleep or go for another spin or that none of the boys come into the kitchen and decide that raw dough is a perfectly good snack. Bitty has seen that happen. So he's assuming a lot, especially on the part of his housemates.

But they really need to get upstairs. If the bulge in Jack's jeans isn't reason enough, then, well, his own semi is a pretty good excuse. So they need to go, like,  _now_.

"Alright, sweetheart," Bitty says. "But I swear, if this dough isn't here when I come back-"

He doesn't have time to finish that though before Jack's hands are gripping him by his thighs, and then suddenly he is in the air, clasping a hand over his mouth to contain his squeal as Jack heaves him up around his waist and takes Bitty's entire weight onto his frame. Bitty swats him on the back, a silent scold because unexpectedly lifting your boyfriend off his feet isn't exactly a subtle move, but mostly he's just hanging on for dear life as Jack shuffles him into the hallway and up the stairs before anyone can come and investigate the muffled squealing coming from the kitchen. Bitty really hopes that they'll all just choose to ignore it.

Jack stops at the top of the stairs and sucks in a breath, adjusting his grip on Bitty's thighs.

"What are you doing?" Bitty asks, craning his head to look at him.

"Just taking a break."

"...are you serious?"

"I just carried you up the stairs," Jack says. He gives Bitty a heave and starts moving again. "That's not an easy thing to do."

"You're a professional athlete," Bitty exclaims as he's carried into his bedroom.

"Well, you're heavier than you look," Jack grunts. He slams the door shut with his foot.

"Oh, that's nice. That's exactly what I wanted to hear just before-  _Jack_!" 

Jack drops him onto the bed unceremoniously, the frame creaking under the weight of the toss, and Bitty bounces back up a bit, his arms flailing to catch himself on something before he falls off. He latches onto Jack's outstretched hands and pulls him down onto the bed with him. Jack's knees land at the edge of the mattress on either side of Bitty, and then Jack is leaning over him, grinning.

"Hey there," he says, his voice low.

Bitty smiles. "Hi." 

Jack kisses his chin, his neck, then presses his lips against Bitty's chest through his shirt as his hands travel south, running up the back of Bitty's legs until they're spread across his hips. Bitty hums against his lips. Jack is warm, like summertime, and even though his rough hands are calloused from palm to tip, his touch is soft against Bitty's skin, as his hands work their way back up his body, grazing under his shirt before coming up to clutch at his jaw. He wears a smirk as he resists Bitty's kisses, opting instead to press his lips down the line of Bitty's prominent collarbone until his skin is all flushed and pink.

"Jack Zimmermann, you're a tease," Bitty breathes. He wraps his legs around Jack's hips and runs a hand through that thick, dark hair.

"Me?" Jack says. He starts on Bitty's shirt buttons. "Look at what you're wearing."

"What exactly am I wearing that sets you off like this?" Bitty asks. By his count, he's just wearing his normal clothes, and although that is awfully sweet of Jack to imply that he is always kind of a tease-

Jack laughs against his skin. "Hopefully, it's nothing soon."

Oh, this boy is asking for trouble.

"Let's get on with it then," Bitty says, smirking as Jack slides his shirt open and kisses his stomach. "I've got a good batch of dough sitting on the counter, remember, and it'll be all your fault if it's ruined-"

"I'll be happy to take the blame," Jack says. He doesn't bother to slide Bitty's shirt off his shoulders, just leaves it hanging open and reaches across him to get to the bedside drawer. "Can I fuck you?"

Bitty knows when he blushes, and lord, can he feel it now. Don't get him wrong- he loves letting Jack fuck him, and he loves that Jack asks, and he loves the way that Jack asks, all blunt and rough with that husky sex voice he gets when he's turned on, even if it does make Bitty blush ten ways to Sunday. But, well, hell will freeze over before Bitty says the words  _anal sex_ out loud. He nearly died the first time he bought condoms. He did die the first time he bought lube. He makes Jack buy it now, so that his shy vanilla ghost can rest in peace. 

"Yes, please," he mutters in his miserable love voice.

Jack grins and retrieves what he was looking for in the drawer: a small bottle of lube that lands near Bitty's head when he tosses it and a condom, which he holds in one hand and rips open with his teeth.

"You're a snack, Bits," he says.

Bitty blinks at him. "Excuse me?"

"Don't tell me you don't know what that means, Eric Bittle," Jack says, unrolling the condom. "With the amount of time you spend on the internet?"

Bitty wriggles in his pants, a hint that he is fully hard but for some reason still not naked. Jack takes the hint and promptly sets to work on Bitty's jeans, nearly tearing him out of them and throwing them across the room, although it's not quite as hot as the way he opened that condom. 

"Does it mean I'm yummy?" Bitty asks, slipping a hand beneath the waistband of his underwear.

He's too late. Jack grabs his dick before he does, palming it through the thin fabric of his briefs, and he does so while running a hand down the back of Bitty's bare thigh, which rests on his hip. 

"It means you're delicious," he says, "and I'm gonna eat you all up." 

How can one man be so embarrassing and yet so endearing? The way Jack talks during sex, like he actually knows what the hell anything means, gets Bitty all hot and bothered, and he doesn't care that it sounds ridiculous. Sharing laughter is half the fun, after all, and laugh he does when Jack eases him out of his briefs and kisses the inside of his thighs. If Jack says he's a snack, then he's a snack.

"Alright, honey," Bitty says, handing him the lube. "I'm your snack, Jack." 

Bitty watches Jack slide down his jeans and work the condom on- oh lord, thank you for this dick- as he fingers himself with his lube-slicked fingers. He works on just one at first, wincing when he goes to put the second finger in. It hasn't been that long since they last had sex, but it has been a busy week and he wasn't ready for this when Jack pounced. Not that he isn't totally here for this, just- you know. Give a guy a chance to stretch.

"I didn't prepare for this, you know," Bitty says. "If you had given me a little warning-"

"I didn't plan this," Jack says. He watches for a moment as Bitty fingers himself, even after Bitty catches him looking and flushes. "You just smell so nice when you bake. And you know how good your arms look when you're rolling dough..."

Bitty's never heard that one before, but it's a compliment to die for. He lets Jack know by pulling him down for a kiss, humming against his lips and flexing his arms. Looks like baking is good exercise, after all.  

"Although," Jack says when he breaks away. He heaves Bitty's knees up onto his shoulder and slips two lube-soaked fingers into him. "I have been thinking about fucking you non-stop since you came to visit last weekend-"

"Jack," Bitty moans, clutching a hand at his hair.

He's desperate. Partially because he will die if Jack starts dirty talking (it's hot, don't get him wrong, especially the French parts that he doesn't totally understand, but it's much too hot for this tiny room in the Haus, because these walls are much thinner than he tells himself), but also because Jack just found his prostate and he needs that god-given dick in him right now. This was supposed to be a quick thing anyways.

"Bits, what am I gonna do with you?" Jack says, taking his fingers out.  

"Fuck me," Bitty says. 

Jack raises his eyebrows. "Received and understood, cap'n." 

He adjusts Bitty's knees on his shoulders, running his hands down Bitty's tender thighs. He stops for a second to touch Bitty, stroking him up and down with his thumb until Bitty is biting his lip and swatting Jack's hand away, telling him that he can do it himself so Jack should just get to it already. Lord, he's impatient today and he knows it. He wasn't even the one dying to come upstairs for a quickie, but here he is now, the one just barely hanging on as Jack runs his hands over his body, teasing him. He is the tease, no matter what he says. He's a devil when it comes to keeping Bitty on the edge and-

Bitty puts a hand over his mouth to stifle his moans as Jack finally pushes into him. He is slow, at first, easing into Bitty's tight hole with the guide of his hand, and he barely goes in before he pulls out again. He bends his neck and kisses one of Bitty's knees. Then he pushes in again, still slow, still gentle, but further this time, as far as Bitty will let him until he shudders with the feeling of being filled just right, and then Jack does the same thing again: pulls out, then pushes in again, still further this time.

It's driving Bitty mad.

He likes it, don't get him wrong. Lord, he would go crazy for any way this boy fucked him. But Jack has been dying to get inside him for the last ten minutes, and now suddenly he decides he's going to take his time like a gentleman? Bitty doesn't have time for that. He's got a batch of unguarded dough downstairs. 

"Baby," Bitty breathes. "Please, come on."

Jack laughs. "Baby?"

"What are you laughing at?"

"It's just, you've never called me  _bab_ _y_."

"You don't like it?"

"It doesn't have quite the same effect as  _sweetpea_ -"

"Alright, I don't need any more sass from that mouth," Bitty exclaims. He's touching himself, stroking up and down in a lazy rhythm to match Jack's pushes, but he's losing his mind here. "Can you get to work, sir?"

"I'll put my mouth to better use," Jack says, and then Bitty's knees are pressed against his chest as Jack leans down and kisses him, his lips lovely and warm, his hands tender on the back of Bitty's thighs as he pushes into him again, deeper this time, and draws out a low, humming moan that echoes against his tongue.  

Bitty's back arches against the bed as Jack starts in on a rhythm, his fingers gripping tightly into the back of Bitty's legs, pressing into his skin. His knees are still hooked over Jack's shoulders, still pressed up against his chest, in a position much more flexible than he thought possible, but it feels so good to have Jack so close to him, his face just inches from Bitty's as he presses into him.

He can feel Jack's breath on his skin as he pushes. He is warm, his breath hot, and when his stomach grazes over the tip of Bitty's dick, wet in Bitty's own hand, Bitty hums into the other hand that he's holding over his mouth in a lazy attempt to block out at least some of the noise. He knows, in the back of his mind, that the bed is shaking, the floor creaking, that the whole house can probably hear what's going on and that he will never be able to look anyone in the eye ever again. Yet in the moment, he doesn't care. He's got Jack Laurent Zimmermann in his bed. He's not going to worry too much about the noises they're making. 

He takes the hand from his mouth and shoves it through Jack's hair. His dark locks are thick and fluffy with the heat of sex, and Bitty pushes them out of place, taking immense pleasure int he way Jack's scalp feels beneath his hands. A few stray locks fall over Jack's forehead, and they brush against Bitty's chin when Jack bends to kiss his chest. 

The heat in the room is rising. It occurs to Bitty that they're fucking like horny teenagers, both of them barely fitting onto his twin bed. His pants have been thrown across the room, but Jack is still fully clothed, or nearly, at least. He's got his jeans pulled down just far enough for premium access, which, normally, would make Bitty roll his eyes and insist on a proper undressing. They could at least both be naked. But right now, this look is hot. Especially considering the sweat that's gathering on Jack's chest and soaking through the thin fabric of his tee shirt. That is a worthy sight all on its own, and Bitty runs a hand down his boyfriend's neck to grip at his shoulder, reveling at the dump muscle clutched beneath his fingers. 

"Jack," Bitty moans, not bothering to keep his voice down anymore.

Jack kisses one of his knees. "Are you coming, Bits?"

"I'm, ngh, I'm close, sweetie, I'm- ohhhh."

He is close. He's got one hand bunched in Jack's tee shirt, the other stroking his dick as Jack pushes into him. The feeling fills him, overwhelms him, and Bitty rubs the head of his dick with the pre-cum that spills out as he bites his lip. If he's close, then Jack must be closer. And it shows on his face when Bitty looks at him, his face is flushed with blood, his mouth barely keeping a comprehensible shape as he pushes into Bitty, biting back whatever profane exclamations are probably sitting on his tongue.

"Come, sweetheart," Jack murmurs, pressing a kiss to his chin. "I want you to come."

"Aw, you called me sweetheart," Bitty mumbles, grinning as he strokes himself to climax. 

He comes with one hand in Jack's hair, gripping at his roots so hard that he thinks he hears Jack swear, his other hand wrapped around the base of his dick, hot, sweaty. It's not long after that Jack gives one last push with shaking thighs and finishes too, gasping a sigh of relief and letting his forehead fall onto Bitty's chest.

Bitty kisses his widow's peak before insisting that he get off, because it's damn hot in this room. He flings his arms back onto the bed, letting out a deep breath, and throws his legs off the side of the bed, his thighs feeling quite tender after being exercised so vigorously. Jack flops down beside him, wiping a hand across his brow and catching his breath. Bitty looks over at him, smiling. He loves this man so much and he just wants to tell him that- and thank you lord, that this man lets him come first- but something else catches his eye.

"Oh, no," he says, putting a hand to his mouth. "Honey, I think I ruined your shirt."

Jack looks down. He's a dismal sight: sex hair ruffled wildly, dick hanging out of his jeans, and damp Falconers tee shirt with a fresh cum stain on it. He examines the splash uncertainly.

"That'll probably come out," he says. 

"That's never coming out," Bitty says. "I'm sorry, honey."

"Bits, I have a hundred of these shirts."

"But that was a good one," Bitty insists.

"You can have it then," Jack says. 

Bitty stares at him. "That's the shirt you're gonna give me? You have a hundred Falconers shirt and you're gonna give me the one with the cum stain on it?"

"It's your cum stain, babe."

"Romantic," Bitty exclaims. He grabs the lube bottle and chucks it at Jack, who makes a lame catch before it whacks him in the arm. "I abandon my dough for you and this is how you repay me?"

Bitty stops suddenly and springs up. "My dough!" 

"It's probably fine," Jack says. He stares at the cum stain for another second before deciding that, yes, this shirt is ruined, and shrugging it off. "Let's clean up and get back down there before-"

A sudden shriek from downstairs echoes through the Haus. Bitty clutches a hand to his chest, nearly falling off the bed, and makes eye contact with Jack, who seems just as confused, although not nearly as startled.

"Bitty left rolled dough on the counter!" someone yells from downstairs.

The proclamation is followed by a loud round of gasps and cries that grow in volume as they rush from the living room to the kitchen.

"Yo, Bittle would never leave dough out like that."

"Do you think he's been taken?"

"Shit, man! We've gotta find Bitty!"

"Yeah!" 

"Find Bitty!"

"Guys, he hasn't been taken. Jack's here, remember?"

"Oh."

"...oh."

"..."

"...OH!"

A series of ecstatic whoops sounds from the bottom of the stairs.

"GET HIM, BITTY!"

"WAY TO GO, BOYS!"

Someone pounds on the wall and then Lardo's voice echoes up the stairwell. "JACK ZIMMERMANN YOU OWE ME A THOUSAND DOLLARS."

Bitty sputters and buries his face in his hands. He drops back onto the bed, moaning, as Jack shakes with laughter beside him.  

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](https://ackermom.tumblr.com/)!


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